I leave the Gods out from this equationMath and algebra are not my strongest token.My beating heart is my rhyming in question My heart's harp strings are old but not broken.

"What remains of us is love'" I wholeheartedly embrace, Such love foretold is for some is a fool's gold They went searching for love but found its doorsLocked behind triple chains blackened with mould.

I fess up, I confess, this was their test, not my test, And they failed miserably to find true love and to recover.Seize the moment and go for the pot of gold - is their gold standard-But not my cup of tea, I prefer to be content as a poetry lover.